


Hours To Go

by Verilidaine



Series: Ghosts [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad coping mechanisms, Graphic Description, M/M, Prostitution, Self Harm Via Proxy, Sexual Injury, Suicidal Thoughts, no fix-it, post-IW, the implications of bestiality that follow Rocket around in his life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 05:39:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17136020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verilidaine/pseuds/Verilidaine
Summary: Rocket isn't dealing with the events of Infinity War very well.  Sometimes, you need to feel something.  Sometimes, you hope it might be the end.





	Hours To Go

**Author's Note:**

> This last year has been a rather dark one for me. My partner was diagnosed with a nerve disease that causes constant and chronic pain. Sufferers often describe it as feeling like your skin is literally on fire, or being shredded with barbed wire. It's stupidly rare and horribly random in who develops it, and is almost always caused by something so insignificant, you would never think it's going to change your life forever. If I accidentally brushed her arm, she would scream from the pain. 
> 
> I wrote the bulk of this while in a pretty miserable mental space. Recently, she received a surgery to implant a device that helps to mitigate the pain signals before they can reach her brain, and so far, it has been helping. She'll never heal and almost everyone experiences progression of the disease, implant or not, but it has been a tiny bit of hope. So I came back to this piece to put some nicer finishing touches on it, and share it. 
> 
> Fair warning, I wouldn't read this if you're not sure about your ability to handle something dark and graphic. 
> 
> (To those of you whose fics I need to catch up on, I'm still going to do that! I wasn't in a mental place to read anything that wasn't super dark, but I'm venturing back in, and will stop by your works <3)

Kraglin’s crew mostly left him alone.  Rocket was glad for it; he didn’t want to talk to anyone, and he couldn’t stand the thought of making any more friends.  They would probably just die, anyway.  Wasn’t that what happened to all his friends?  
  
He stared at the bomb he was working on.  Even here, in the middle of the rec room, the crew stayed away.  Could they sense it about him?  He’d been constructed to be a weapon.  Was his death toll finally high enough that it was showing?  
  
Or maybe it was just the bomb, hard to say.  
  
Someone sat down next to him, slapping his hand on the table and startling Rocket out of his contemplation.  He shot a sidelong glare in the intruder’s direction and wasn’t surprised to see Kraglin.  
  
Okay, most of his friends.    
  
“Go away,” he muttered.  
  
“Uh-uh.  You’re freakin’ folks out with that thing.”  Kraglin gestured at the bomb.  
  
Rocket bared his teeth.  “Well it ain’t armed.”  
  
“Yeah but they don’t know that, do they?”  Kraglin shrugged.  “Y’ been sulkin’ for weeks.”  
  
“In between bouts of fixing up this floating junkyard.”  
  
“Hm.”  
  
Rocket eyed the primate, waiting for him to deny that Rocket had been useful while he’d been here.  
  
Finally, Kraglin waved his hand.  “Well, yeah, she is runnin’ better now.”  
  
“‘Course she is,” Rocket muttered, returning to his tinkering.  
  
“Can’t be what y’ wanna do forever, though.”  
  
Rocket didn’t want to think about forever.  Groot was dead forever.  Quill and Yondu were dead forever.  Gamora, Drax, Mantis, all dead.  _Forever._   “Go away.”  
  
“Look, man, I’m just tryin’ t’ help.”  
  
“I know how you can help,” Rocket said.  “Guess what.  It’s by going the _fuck_ away.”  
  
Kraglin sighed and shook his head.  “Yondu woulda--”  
  
Rocket’s hand shook, and with the unexpected movement, he tore out the primary relay.  He froze, staring at the damage, then rounded on Kraglin with his teeth bared.  “I don’t wanna hear any more about what Yondu woulda did, or what Yondu woulda said, or what Yondu woulda thought!” he shouted.  “It just means he’s gone and he ain’t comin’ back, so fucking _leave me alone!_ ”  
  
Kraglin was staring at him and the activity around the periphery of the room had frozen.  Rocket growled again, then Kraglin shrugged.  
  
“Fine, have it your way,” he said as he stood up.    
  
Rocket watched him walk away before looking back at his hands.  “Fuck,” he muttered. 

* * *

He found Kraglin later on the bridge.  A glare at the few other humies hanging around sent them on their way and Kraglin watched him with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“What’s the nearest planet?” Rocket asked.  
  
“There’s a few empty rocks nearby,” Kraglin said.  “Closest civilization is a trading post, though.”  
  
Rocket nodded.  He took a breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled.  “It got a red-light?”  
  
Kraglin’s eyes widened.  “Well, yeah, but...”  
  
“I just...” Rocket didn’t know why he felt like he needed to explain himself to Kraglin.  “I just need ... _something_.”  He closed his eyes.  “I need to feel something besides this.”  
  
He heard Kraglin shift and when he looked up he was pulling up coordinates.  “I’ll send these to your craft.”  
  
Rocket swallowed.  “Thank you.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “Sorry I yelled.”  
  
“‘S okay,” Kraglin said.  “I get it.”  
  
“I’ll be back in a few days.”  He turned to go.  
  
“Rocket,” Kraglin said.  Rocket looked over his shoulder.  “Be safe.”  
  
Rocket blinked, then shook his head with a bitter smile.  “Ain’t really the point, is it.”  
  
Kraglin didn’t answer.

* * *

The last time he’d been in a red-light district, Groot had been following him and fretting the whole time.  Rocket smiled a little as he remembered the worrying tree.  It was hard enough to find a fling looking the way he did, but having a tree as a bodyguard?  That made it damn near impossible.  
  
Which, really, had probably been Groot’s goal.  He’d hated when Rocket would go out like this.  Rocket hadn’t cared enough back then to be bothered by Groot’s distress and he’d found the Flora Colossus’s presence bothersome.  
  
What he wouldn’t give to have Groot trailing him with that worried look right now.  
  
He stopped on a corner and looked down the alleyway.  Hookers were lined up the whole way.  He could see at least four species and even more genders than that, but his gaze stopped on a yellow-skinned male Xandarian.  
  
He was looking right back at Rocket, and after a moment he pushed off the wall and walked towards him.  He had a long stride, big hands, and a quick peek at his package told Rocket that he shouldn’t take this one.  Unless this particular hooker shrank when he got hard, he looked bigger than anyone Rocket had taken before, and he’d already been pushed past his safe limit more than once.  
  
Instead, Rocket swallowed and crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders as his head gradually tilted further and further back to maintain eye contact.  
  
“Interested?” he asked.  
  
The young man raised an eyebrow.  “That’s my line.”  
  
“Yeah, well, it takes either takes interest or desperation with a strong stomach to think about this,” Rocket said, gesturing at himself.  “So which is it?”  
  
“You got a room already or you need some suggestions?”  
  
“I can get one,” Rocket said.  He swallowed again.  Was he really doing this?  “Got any restrictions?”  
  
The trick shook his head.  
  
“Then follow me.” 

* * *

Rocket watched the young man undress.  He was already semi-hard, probably the result of some kind of stamina drug, and confirming Rocket’s suspicions about length and girth.  They’d settled on the fee and made the exchange already, so Rocket passed him a scrap of paper.  “Say this when you come and I’ll pay you double.”  
  
The trick--fuck, did Rocket really not even know his name?--read over it before shrugging.  “Yeah, sure,” he said, and Rocket stripped out of his suit and climbed onto the bed.    
  
A bed.  Rocket almost laughed.  The last time he’d done something like this, it had been under a burnt out street lamp.  
  
“Oh, hey, you got any sleeves?  Forgot to say I’m out.”  
  
Rocket shrugged.  “Don’t care.”  
  
There was a pause.  “You sure, dude?  I--”  
  
“ _I don’t care._ ”  
  
Gamora would be so disappointed in him right now.  Rocket bit back a sob.  Disappointed because he wasn’t taking care of himself the way she thought he deserved.  
  
What the fuck did she know?  She was dead.  Rocket didn’t deserve shit.  
  
“Alright, whatever.”  
  
The mattress creaked behind him and Rocket settled on his elbows and knees.    
  
“Hey, um, you really sure?  I mean, am I gonna hurt you?”  
  
Fucking hell.   How hard was it to find someone who _didn’t fucking care?_  
  
“You ask me one more question and I ain’t paying you shit,” Rocket growled.  
  
“Geez, you don’t gotta be a dick about it.”    
  
Rocket heard him rubbing on some lube and he twitched his tail up.  He was much bigger than Yondu.  And anyone else he’d ever taken.  Maybe he’d get lucky and suffer some kind of internal damage and bleed out.  Probably not--his body was so annoyingly sturdy--but he could hope.  
  
The first push _hurt._   Rocket grabbed the threadbare sheet, claws going right through it into the mattress, and held on.    
  
The trick gave a breathless laugh.  “Holy shit.  That is fucking amazing.”  
  
_\--ain’t an animal, ain’t an animal, ain’t an animal--_  
  
At least after that, the trick seemed too engrossed in what he was doing to talk much more so Rocket just gripped the mattress and squeezed his eyes shut and rode it out.  
  
The trick grunted when he started to come.  “Nnh, shit-- _ShitI’mgonnacum_ \--”  
  
Rocket held his breath.  
  
“Shit, right--uhn, you aren’t--” Another grunt.  “--aren’t an animal.”  He sagged forward, pushing Rocket into the mattress.  
  
Rocket buried his face in the mattress to muffle his sob and soak up the tears.  His breath shuddered.  “Get out,” he choked.  
  
The trick scoffed.  “Yeah whatever,” he said.  “Gimmie the rest and I’ll go.”  
  
He pulled out, leaving Rocket feeling empty and aching.  He lowered his tail and cringed.  That was at the very least going to hurt for a while, if it wasn’t anything worse.  “What rest?”  
  
“You said if I--”  
  
“If you said what it said, yeah!” Rocket shouted, whirling.  “That _ain’t_ what it said!”  
  
The trick stared at him, then jumped off the bed and started looking around for the scrap of paper.  Rocket stared at his cock.  There was blood on it.    
  
Then he found the paper on the floor and snatched it up, looking at the scribbled words.  “That’s what I said!”  
  
Rocket shook his head with a grunt.    
  
“That’s ... are you fucking serious?  I said ‘aren’t’ instead of ‘ain’t?’  Are you _fucking_ serious?”  
  
“I said _get out_.”  
  
The trick scoffed.  “Yeah, whatever.” He started gathering his clothes.  “Fuckin’ freak,” he muttered.  “And guess what, you _are_ an animal.”  
  
Rocket barked a laugh and flopped onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes.  “Guess that makes you an animal fucker.”  
  
The door slammed and Rocket moved his arm to stare at the ceiling.  
  
Gamora would kick his ass and call him out on his self-pity if she could see him right now.  Quill would give him the Disappointed Look.  Groot would be frantically worried, confused.  Mantis would be sad.  Drax would be practical, but concerned.  Yondu--  
  
Rocket’s breath hitched.  
  
Yondu would kill the trick, then do whatever he could to help.  
  
Rocket could picture all of them so clearly.  
  
How was he supposed to live the rest of his life surrounded by their ghosts? 

* * *

_“Are you okay?” Gamora asked, the first to speak._  
  
_“Of course he is not okay,” Drax said.  “He has just lost a loved one.  No one is okay after such an event.”_  
  
_Gamora sighed.  “I know that, but it’s polite to ask.”_  
  
_“It is pointless.”_  
  
_Rocket sighed.  “Look, guys, I’m ... I am okay.”  Quill’s hand squeezed his shoulder.  “I’m sorry it took so long for me to tell you.  I didn’t really know how.  And I know I’ve been a jerk.  But I’m okay.”_  
  
_“Y’ain’t actin’ like it.”_  
  
That voice.  
  
_Rocket blinked, then looked around and frowned.  Yondu was dead.  But there he was, sitting in his favorite chair.  The Guardians were all gathered around after Rocket’s admission to what had happened between him and Yondu while they were stuck in the time bubble.  “You can’t be here.”_  
  
_“Why not?”_  
  
_“Because you’re dead.”_  
  
_“So are they,” Yondu said._  
  
_Rocket shook his head and pressed his hands to his eyes.  “No,” he whispered._  
  
_“C’mere,” Yondu murmured, and Rocket couldn’t resist.  He climbed into Yondu’s lap.  Behind him he could feel the gazes of the rest of the Guardians._  
  
_“We should’ve had more,” he said, feeling tears in his eyes.  “The Guardian’s should’ve had more.”_  
  
_“Yeah,” Yondu said.  He stroked his fingers over Rocket’s ears and Rocket pressed against his chest, gripping his jacket._  
  
_“I miss you.”  The admission was barely a whisper.  His voice echoed strangely.  Quill’s hand was on his back again.  Gamora held his hand and Mantis touched his neck.  Drax stood guard, and Rocket was huddled in Groot’s branches with Groot curled around his neck.  “I miss you so much.” Yondu’s heartbeat was steady beneath him._  
  
_Maybe he could just curl up here and never leave this place._  
  
_But one of Groot’s branches was poking him.  Rocket tried to shift into a more comfortable position but the branch still hurt.  “Ow, Groot--” The pain got brighter and Rocket yelped, scrambling upright--_  
  
He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of the dank little hotel room.  The mattress spring was poking his back, but that wasn’t the source of the pain.  He sat up and looked down.  The mattress was stained dark between his legs.  
  
That was probably not good. 

* * *

Sheer stubborn pride got him back to his ship, and that was fueled by nothing more than not wanting to inconvenience Kraglin by dying in a cheap motel in a puddle of his own blood and shit.    
  
Funny how the meaning of pride could change, he mused, as he stepped out from his craft.  He couldn’t focus well enough to see Kraglin’s expression.    
  
“I think,” he said, “I need a doctor.”    
  
Then the floor rushed up to meet his face, and for a brief moment, he was glad for his small body.  He’d be easy to chuck out an airlock.    
  
Hopefully he hadn’t left too much for Kraglin to clean.

* * *

He smelled the sweetened sterilized air before he was fully aware of who he was.  It smelled of too-bright walls and flickering lights and scratchy sheets with crisp folds.  When he opened his eyes, he looked up at an off-white ceiling.  
  
He’d really preferred Groot’s branches, as far as final resting places went.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
But the owner of that voice wasn’t dead, as far as Rocket knew.  He turned his head to look at Kraglin, and bared his teeth.  “Go away.”  
  
“Who did it?”  
  
Rocket shuffled backwards, getting himself a bit more upright, and shook his head.      
  
“Rocket, who did this to you?”  
  
Rocket looked back at him.  Kraglin had a blaster in each thigh holster and a third tucked into his pants.  “No one.”  
  
Kraglin narrowed his eyes and blinked, then took a step closer.  “Ain’t what the doc said.  Bastard’s good as dead, just point me at 'im.”  
  
Rocket realized several things in that moment.  
  
First, that doctor-patient confidentiality didn’t apply to him, because of course it didn’t.  He was a thing.  Things didn’t get rights.    
  
Next, that they had swabbed inside his ass, found cum, and told Kraglin about it.    
  
Last, that he could name anyone in the galaxy, and they would either be dead within the week, or wishing that they were. Kraglin’s jaw was set and his shoulders squared, a posture that Rocket honestly would have thought would look ridiculous on him.  But instead, he was glad that he was not the focus of Kraglin’s anger because right now, the man looked downright terrifying.    
  
Except, Rocket really didn’t want anyone killed on his behalf at the moment.  Kraglin already knew the contents of his ass, so Rocket might as well be honest.    
  
“He didn’t do nothin’ I didn’t ask and pay for.”  
  
That man had some strange expressions sometimes.  Rocket thought this one was maybe confused, but also worried.  
  
“Y’sure?”  
  
“Yeah,” Rocket said.  “I’m sure.  Um.”  He scratched the back of his neck.  “What do I owe?”  
  
“Owe?”  
  
“For the stay,” Rocket said, gesturing around.  “Doctors, all that.”  
  
“Oh.  Nothing,” Kraglin said.    
  
“You ain’t payin’ for this.”  
  
Kraglin snorted.  “‘Course I ain’t.  Ravagers don’t pay here.”  
  
Rocket paused.  It was his turn to be confused.  “I’m not a Ravager.”  
  
Kraglin peered at him.  “Y’know, for as much as the Cap’n always went on ‘bout you bein’ a genius, you say some real stupid shit sometimes.  Your ship’s docked in the public port when you’re ready to leave.”  
  
Rocket stared at him with his mouth open, but before he could say anything, Kraglin turned on his heel and left.  
  
Rocket slumped back, feeling dazed.  

* * *

Some kind of doctor came in a little after that, giving Rocket a full, humiliating rundown of his injuries and the necessary repairs they’d made.  His enhanced body was probably the only reason he was still alive--so what else was new--and it would be a good idea to come back for a follow-up.  Oh, and they wanted him on an all-liquid diet for at least a few weeks. Fun.  
  
All in all, though, the doctor was surprisingly kind.  Rocket didn’t feel judged by her, or like she was peering at him or just fascinated by what he was.  So instead of telling her to shove her liquid diet idea, he agreed to it, then requested his clothes.  
  
She frowned a little.  “Your suit was stuck to your fur.  We had to cut it off.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“We have gowns you could use?”  
  
Rocket bit back a groan.  “Yeah, that’ll have to do.”    
  
“I will have some brought,” she said.  “Here--” She pulled a bottle out of her pocket and held it out.  “In case you need them.  You’re going to be sore.”  
  
Rocket sniffed.  Painkillers.  He waved them off.  “This ain’t nothing.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Hate feelin’ drugged,” Rocket muttered.    
  
She nodded and put the bottle back in her pocket, then reached up to adjust her glasses.  “There is one more thing we should discuss before you are discharged.”  
  
Rocket stifled his sigh.  “Yeah?”  
  
“You were exposed to several viruses.”  
  
“Ain’t new,” Rocket said.  “I keep my software up to date, it does fine against ‘em.”  
  
She frowned for a moment, then her eyes widened slightly.  “Oh.  No, not electronic viruses.  Organic viruses.  They were found in the semen sample we recovered.”  
  
Rocket closed his eyes and somehow managed to not pull the blankets over his head.  
  
“Given your  biology, it’s impossible to say if they are even transmittable to you,” she continued, as calm now as she had been when telling him about the intestinal ruptures he’d suffered.  “And we performed preventative drug therapy.  However, my recommendation is to come back in six months for further testing.”  
  
“Right,” Rocket said.  “Thanks.”  
  
She looked at him for another long moment, lips pressed thin.  “Would you like a recommendation for a grief counselor?”  
  
Rocket barked a laugh.  “Look, Doc, you’ve been great.  All I want right now is a gown and directions to my ship.”  
  
She nodded once.  “I understand.  I will have both brought.  Take care of yourself, Rocket.”  
  
“Always do!” Rocket replied, through a grin that was as much that as a snarl, and felt his claws tear through the blanket. 

* * *

He was a little surprised to find Kraglin’s ship still waiting for him in orbit.  He’d honestly expected the Ravager to be halfway across the system by now.  Rocket was all kinds of baggage right now, and Kraglin sure didn’t need any of it.  
  
But there he was, waiting, and Rocket’s docking request was accepted as soon as he sent it.  
  
He felt incredibly stupid stepping out in the hospital gown, and honestly wasn’t looking forward to walking through the ship in it, but before he could even start to contemplate finding a path through the walls one of Kraglin’s crew was heading across the loading bay.  She was holding something.  
  
“Here,” she said when she reached him, holding her hand out, and the thing in her hand unrolled and took full shape.  “Kraglin says it might not fit right but it’ll be easy to adjust.”  
  
Rocket stared at it.  Ravager colors and design, the suit was his size and style.  “Thanks,” he said, automatically, and took it.    
  
She shrugged and left the way she’d come.  
  
Rocket changed in his ship and found the suit surprisingly well-fit to his frame.  A few spots here and there could use some tucking, but overall, it was more than sufficient.  He got everything straightened out and buckled, then headed out to find Kraglin.  
  
He found him on the bridge, slouched in the primary nav station, just looking out at the stars.  He looked up when Rocket’s claws clicked on the floor, twisting around and watching until Rocket was even with him.  
  
Rocket looked up and met his gaze, frowning a little.  “How long I been a Ravager?”  
  
Kraglin snorted and turned back.  “Far’s I’m concerned, since y’ made the Cap’n yours.  Everyone else, since y’ told Stakar what was what an’ he _listened_.”  
  
Rocket’s heart gave a funny beat.  “Oh.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Rocket swallowed a few times.  “I ... miss him.”  
  
“Yeah.  Me too.”  Kraglin jerked his head to the side, and patted the armrest.  “Wanna sit?”  
  
Rocket snorted.  “No.”  
  
Kraglin frowned, then his eyes widened, and his face turned beet red.  “Oh, right.”  
  
Rocket waved his hand.  “Look, jus’ ... I wasn’t in a good place, and I...”  
  
“I get it,” Kraglin said quickly.  “Needin’ to feel something.  I get it.”  
  
Rocket nodded. “Yeah.  And ... thanks.  For getting me to the hospital.”  
  
Kraglin raised an eyebrow.  “Y’ain’t pissed?”  
  
Rocket cringed and scratched at the back of his neck.  “Pissed, no.  Disappointed ... maybe.”  He couldn’t look at Kraglin.  
  
“I get that too.” The Ravager heaved a sigh. “Don’ exactly seem fair, what we got handed.”  
  
“Yeah.”  Rocket barely got the word out.  “But still.  Thanks.”  
  
“Don’ mention it.”  
  
Rocket snorted.  “Believe me, I won’t.”  
  
That got a chuckle from Kraglin and Rocket smiled for the first time in a long time. 

* * *

_“You got your head on straight yet?”_  
  
_Rocket didn’t open his eyes.  There was no point._  
  
_“Don’chu ignore me, this is important.”_  
  
_Rocket covered his eyes with his hands.  “You’re dead.  Leave me alone.”_  
_“Do not ignore him, Rocket.”_  
  
_Rocket cringed, but peeked between his fingers.  Gamora was frowning at him, her arms crossed.  “Hey.”_  
  
_“Hey yourself.”_  
  
_“You’re dead.”_  
  
_“And you ain’t,” Quill pointed out._  
  
_“I am Groot,” Groot agreed._  
  
_“He makes an accurate observation,” Drax added._  
  
_Rocket sighed and looked at Yondu.  “Well?”_  
  
_Yondu’s glare eased.  “Thank you.”_  
  
_“For what?”_  
  
_Yondu leaned in and kissed him.  “You know for what.”_  
  
_Rocket grabbed his jacket and held on as tight as he could._  
  
_“Y’understand?”_  
  
_Rocket shook his head.  He thought he could smell Yondu, if he just held on tight enough--_  
  
_“You,” Yondu said, “Asked for a doctor.”_  
  
Rocket jerked upright, arm outstretched, groping for a jacket and searching for a scent that wasn’t there.  He stared straight ahead, the memory of that scent in his nose, the voices of his ghosts echoing around him.  
  
After a moment, he slumped back and threw his arm over his eyes.  He’d learned that crying hurt a little less that way.  Or maybe it just felt like it.  Easier to clean up if there wasn’t salt crusted in the sensitive hairs of his face.  
  
He was alive.  
  
He was _alive._

* * *

He found Kraglin the next day, slouched in the same place as always.  “You got anything else you want repaired?”  
  
Kraglin looked at him.  “Before y’ leave?”  
  
Rocket wanted to be surprised, but he just couldn’t.  “How’d you know?”  
  
“This ain’t your home,” Kraglin said, shrugging.  “I know that.  I know it ain’t your life.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Know where you’re goin’?”  
  
“Not yet,” Rocket admitted.  “I was thinking maybe Earth ... Got a couple kinda friends there.  They’re regrouping, going after Thanos.”  
  
Kraglin shuddered.  “That’s a death wish if I ever heard one.”  
  
Rocket nodded.  “Yeah.  But, funny enough ... that’s not why I want to go.”  
  
“Yeah?” Kraglin raised an eyebrow.    
  
“I don’t want to die.”  Rocket frowned when he said it, tilting his head as he looked out, then barked a laugh.  “Feels weird to say.  _I don’t want to die._   Thought I did.  Still ain’t scared of it. But I got another chance at this thing, and I need to do somethin’ with it.”  He smiled a little.  “They woulda wanted that.  An’ this life business ain’t forever anyway.” He looked at Kraglin, who still had one eyebrow quirked up.  
  
After a moment, Kraglin shrugged.  “Tha’s the spirit, I guess.”  
  
Rocket looked back, then ducked his head.  “Yeah.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “So I ... thank you.”  
  
“Hey,” Kraglin said.  “Glad ya told me.  An’ ya know ya always got a berth here when ya need it.”  
  
“Surprised I ain’t banned after all the fuss.”  
  
“Oh, that?”  Kraglin chuckled.  “That weren’t nothin’.  Kinda your average Tuesday.”  
  
“Oh, god.”  Rocket couldn’t help but laugh.  “Then I’m definitely bailing.”  
  
“Don’t blame ya.”  Kraglin grinned at him.  “An’ please take your bombs.  They freak the crew out.”  
  
Rocket snorted.  “Those bombs are more stable than these engines.  But don’t worry.  I’m gonna use ‘em.”  
  
“Good.”  Kraglin nodded.  “Give ‘em hell.”  
  
Rocket looked out into the stars.  Somewhere out there, his family was floating through space, all of them stardust.  He could only hope they were together somewhere.  “Don’t worry, I will.”


End file.
